


Chase The Current

by whiteblankpage



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:30:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4326969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteblankpage/pseuds/whiteblankpage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>glee/pacific rim fusion: Adam’s been look for a compatible pilot for three years. Kurt’s not looking for anyone at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chase The Current

Adam spends three years at the the PPDC- inaptly named when the second portal flares into existence on the bottom of the  _Atlantic_  Ocean- looking for a complimentary copilot. 

He isn’t the only pilot without a partner, something that’s hardly any consolation when his classmates group together in the lunch rooms or disappear for days at a time on kaiju wrangling or search-and-recover missions.

Adam trains for weeks at a time, cycles through other lone pilots for some sort of connection, some hint of a spark. He sketches whimsical designs of the Jaeger he plans to pilot one day and keeps the scraps of paper in a box under his bed.

When Kurt Hummel takes the empty room across from his, Adam thinks nothing of it. People come and go through the New York-based Shatterdome- pilots and scientist and military personnel. A new face is nothing  _new_.

It’s when he’s blocked out a portion of Adam’s habitual practice room that he takes a sudden, sharp notice.

Kurt moves through an imaginary strike in perfect arabesque form, keeps light on his toes and quick on his feet until Adam isn’t content to just watch. He wants to join him. 

“Do you spar?”

Kurt stops and takes a long drink of water instead of answering, shaking out his legs as he walks the edge of the practice mat. Adam shuffles closer.

“Do you-”

“Sometimes. Not today,” Kurt tosses a towel over his shoulder as he leaves. “Come by tomorrow. Bring your weapon of choice.”

Adam spends the night in his rooms, agonizing over whether or not Kurt would be impressed by his strength with his battle axe or if matching his agility would prove to be a better goal.

When Kurt pulls two blunt-tipped sai swords from his practice bag, Adam counters with a well cared for pair of rattan sticks. 

Compatibility isn’t about who can land the most hits- it’s about blocking and mirroring and finding a connection. Kurt parries a hit with the hilt of his sword, jabs out with the butt of it’s twin. Adam smacks the attack down with his own weapon.

The room falls quiet but for the rhythmic sound of wood against metal.

Adam steps back, ending the fight with a quick nod of respect. He’s tired and sweaty and even their  _breathing_  is in sync.

If this isn’t what Adam’s been searching for this entire time, he’ll eat an entire kaiju with his morning tea.

Kurt doesn’t respond to his beaming smile, his hand shaking as he drops his weapons and fumbles for his practice bag. Adam cuts him off at the door. 

“That was breath-taking. I’ve never felt like that before.”

Kurt won’t meet his gaze, his cheeks patchy pink. 

“What’s wrong? We’re drift compatible! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for someone like you?”

“Find someone else,” Kurt says, eyes flashing up to meet his. His expressions closes down, shoulders tight as he weaves his way around Adam. “You need a compatible pilot and I don’t drift.”

-

It takes nearly a week for Kurt’s story to filter down lower enough for the solo pilots to get wind of him. 

Adam’s practically leaning over the shoulder of Rory- a tiny transfer from Ireland- when he hears whispers of Kurt’s name.

“Didn’t he used to pilot the Lucky Strike with Anderson down in Ohio?”  

“Yeah, until Hummel completely lost his shit and refused to drift with him anymore.”

“Marshal Hummel sent his kid up here? You’d think he’d have sent Anderson….”

“Adam, would you kindly mind getting  _off_  my back?” Rory asks suddenly, shrugging hard. Adam pulls back long enough to twist around completely on the bench. 

“Are you saying Kurt used to drift before he transferred here?” he asks, shuffling closer to the other table. “I was under the impression that he didn’t at all.”

“You mean when he totally shot you down every time you asked this week?” Mercedes points out. “Guys, he’s not here to pilot, maybe we should just let it go.”

“Who comes to the edge of the apocalypse not prepared to go into battle?” Sam says, wincing as Mercedes slaps his wandering fingers away from her tatter tots. “Lucky Strike took out the Screech, Magnus _and_ Slice-Tongue in it’s time. We  _need_  pilots like that up here.”

“Most pilots don’t get the chance to retire,” Tina says quietly. “I don’t think it’s our place to judge if someone can’t do this job anymore.”

Parts of the cafeteria go silent as Kurt walks down the stairs, tray balanced with both hands. He’s smiling, talking softly with Rachel Berry- copilot of Star Shooter- as they make their way down to the last empty space of table left.

“It’s not like it’ll matter once July gets back,” Mike says, knocking back the last of his milk. “Either he’ll pilot or she’ll send him back in-land.”

—-

The problem with searching for compatibility is that, once found, it’s impossible to ignore. 

Kurt moves a step to the right, lets Adam stand at his side and follow his motions. They circle each other in sync, searching for weaknesses, mirroring strength.

Other solo pilots approach Kurt, over-confident that they’ll be the one he picks. Kurt sends them away without a second thought, packs up his practice weapons and spends the rest of the night in his room.

It isn’t until Adam catches him crouching over the skeleton form of Treble Maker that he breaches the subject of drifting. 

“You ever miss it?”

Kurt’s gaze cuts his way momentarily. “Fighting kaiju? No. Fighting’s like terror and the worst kind of uncertainty. I miss piloting. Sinking down into the machine is a lot like coming home.”

Kurt points out at the open cockpit. “You’re larger than life when you’re in the heart of those monsters. Not much can take you down if you’re good enough.”

Adam grabs at a low-hanging bar, swinging himself down beside Kurt. Their boots tapping together, echoing down over the ledge and into the mech bay. “It’s just the drifting you have a problem with.”

“Drifting,” Kurt says, expression gone sour in an instant. “Why do I have the feeling you’re one of those romantics? You believe that once you’ve found your copilot, nothing could possibly go wrong.”

Adam frowns. “I didn’t mean to sound flighty-”

“People aren’t meant to live in each other’s heads,” Kurt continues. “You aren’t meant to know that the way you say a word irritates them to the point of disgust. Those thoughts get in your head until you’re sure that they’re _yours_. Drifting does that to a person.”

“Kurt-” Adam barely scrambles up off the ledge before Kurt’s gone, footsteps echoing behind him. 

—

Kurt keeps his distance after that, slips in and out of different practice rooms, eats on the off-hours. 

Adam sits up every night to watch the completion of Treble Maker, hoping Kurt will make another appearance.

He doesn’t but when Cassandra July returns to the New York Shatterdome, it doesn’t matter.

-

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted: july2013


End file.
